Amiibo Troubles
by Lewdra
Summary: Back with a short sweet one shot with my Mega Charizard X, Artie, trying to get his hands on a falco amiibo by any means possible. M/M Mega Charizard X/Charizard


The day was absolutely dreadful. The day was supposed to have been all but another day, one key detail made the day important to the Charizard. His favorite amiibo was out that day, and he was determined to get it. He missed the pre-order phase online, he just hoped to Arceus above that he'd be able to snag one at his local GameStop. The Mega Zard was wrong once again. After managing to get out there, he saw that the entire stock of amiibos was all but gone, only a few Sheiks and Links here and there. He was about to turn tail and head home, just when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, one lone Falco. That signature pose, that confident look in his eyes, the revamped outfit design. The figure looked every bit as good as he thought it would. He rushed to get it, but seconds later, the light in his eyes died as a Charizard snatched the last one. Desperate, he ran to him, pushing away the anxiety that came with talking to a stranger like this, he tugged on his sleeve as he was about to turn to the register. The other Zard swung around to face him. He seemed to be a bit older than Artie, maybe in his twenties. He wore a faded blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. The Zard seemed to keep himself relatively fit, his belly barely stuck out and he could see his arms were slightly toned.  
"What is it?" The Charizard questioned, his voice was deep, almost booming. It reminded Artie of what a stern father might sound like.  
"I... uh... That amiibo there. I'd like to buy it from you..." Artie managed to stammer out.

The Zard shook his head. "No way, I've been waiting for this amiibo for months! And it's the last one! What could make this figure anymore special?"  
Anticipating this, Artie pulled his wallet from his hoodie, taking out a handful of twenties. "P-please sir! I'm willing to pay even triple for it, just p-please let me have it…"

The bills held in his claw certainly caught the older Zard's attention, however, there was something unnerving about the way he was grinning at him. The Zard snatched the money, stuffed the bills in his pocket, and bought the amiibo. Artie was filled with a rush of relief, and reached for the bag that held the prized figure before the Charizard reached it up above his head.  
"W-what are you doing? We had a deal!" He whined, trying to snatch the bag down.  
"I've got one more stipulation. C'mon." The Charizard snatched Artie by the wrist, tugging him along to the bathrooms. The plain white tile was freshly polished, and being a single bathroom, the door locked from the inside. With a click, the door was locked, and Artie was left with an uneasy look on his face as he glanced to the Charizard. He wasn't stupid, he knew exactly what he wanted. If he was willing to do it however, was the real question. He opened his mouth to protest, but was immediately cut off by a harsh "Shh!" by the older Zard. His pants fell to the ground in a puddle. He gulped as he kicked them aside, taking in the sight of the Charizard's nethers bared to him. His shaft was already hardening, a thick, humanoid girth whose orange shaft ended in a pink tip that pulsed in the cool air of the bathroom.  
"I-I can't do this…" Artie protested, trying to avert his gaze, but the way it twitched and jump kept drawing his eyes back

"You want that figure, don't you?" The older Zard said as he gave a rough shove to Artie's shoulders, forcing him down to his knees were his drooling tip would hover mere inches away from his lips. "You have some work to do, or no amiibo." Artie began to weigh his options, he really **did** want the amiibo… and he'd already dished out money. Sighing in defeat, Artie drew himself up a bit, and sheepishly took the pulsing rod in his claw. The flesh jumped about in his fingers, which glided across the burning hot flesh, slow, uneasy strokes that elicited low growls of pleasure from above. "Sucking dick for a toy? You must really be desperate, kid."  
That comment certainly stung, but he pushed it off. He just needed to get him off, he'd be out in a few minutes. Artie glanced at the pulsing rod once more, intimidated by its size. It was pretty big, a lot bigger than his own for sure. He was unsure if he'd be able to take it. He drew his lips apart, slowly beginning to press the tip to his maw when a rough shove sent all but a few inches of the rod stuffing into his maw. He let out a muffled cry of surprise, the sudden intrusion filling his maw cutting it off immediately. He could feel every little pulse now as it made itself at home within his burning hot oral depths. A musky taste settled on his tongue as he adjusted to its size, the dragon could swear his muzzle was already full, the tip poking at his throat already. He had to restrain a gag as a short hump against his face later, his snout was pressed flush against a sweaty crotch, and all ten inches of musky dragon meat buried in his throat. He hated the fact he was reduced to this, for a figurine no less, but he knew if he didn't at least put some effort into this, he'd be there far longer than he needed to be. It was hard to focus at all, the Zard above was already hard at work face-fucking him, that shaft grinding itself against the slick muscles of his throat as each thrust sent his snout mushing against his crotch over and over. He tried swirling his tongue around the thickness, hoping the hot, slick caresses of his tongue would help to aid him along. He was right, but really all it resulted in were harder thrusts, and a smug chuckle. He could feel sticky pre splashing onto his tongue each time he pulled his hips back, the salty, hot fluid had him quivering as he drank it down, each swallow tightening his throat around the shaft. He could feel he was getting close, every thrust was followed shortly by a grunt, and the throbs were growing more and more erratic. He expected him to blow in his throat, but was surprised when he felt the shaft withdraw completely from his maw. He opened his eyes just in time to see the tip aimed right at his face, a claw furiously working the slick shaft before he peaked. A hushed groan signaled his release as thick ropes of the older Zard's cum splattered onto his face, spreading a warm, gooey feeling about his snout. He'd long closed his eyes, he could hear labored breathing from above, and the rustling of plastic. A few moments later, a wad of toilet paper was dropped in his claws, and the sound of the door slamming shut rung out in the small room. Wiping his face off as best he could, he tossed the toilet paper into the trashcan, glancing towards the wall. His amiibo was there, just as he was promised.


End file.
